


got a hold on me like glue

by unveils



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Choking, Consensual Kink, M/M, post-recall but can be read during bw era!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 11:26:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12167928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unveils/pseuds/unveils
Summary: So maybe people don’t ask Jesse how he ends up here. Maybe they don’t have to.Maybe they just know that Genji Shimada could ask him to get on his knees anywhere, any time, and he would, no doubts, no questions asked.





	got a hold on me like glue

People always ask Jesse how he winds up in situations like this.

Or maybe not this, exactly -- maybe not the ones where his dick’s tugging his body along like a dog on a leash. The comms were always open on missions, anyway, and any given day under the sun he’s got a mouth full of compliments for the way Genji’s body purrs like a goddamn finely tuned engine when the fighting gets real good.

So maybe people don’t ask Jesse how he ends up here. Maybe they don’t have to.

Maybe they just know that Genji Shimada could ask him to get on his knees anywhere, any time, and he would, no questions asked.

The belt was Jesse’s idea, slipped free from his own jean buckles with a wisp of a promise. Placed in Genji’s hands with a grin for miles, sure as shit.

(“This…” There are these moments, slight and tight as they might be, where genuine surprise can wedge its way between them, even now, after everything. “This is something you would like me to do?”)

The belt was his idea, but the foot was Genji’s.

People don’t ask Jesse how he ends up in these situations, because it’s clearer than the goddamn sun in the sky on a long summer’s day that Genji Shimada makes Jesse so, so stupid for anything he can get his hands on.

It feels like it’s been hours, but Jesse knows it’s only been minutes -- knees pressed hard and unforgiving against the floor of the motel room, tongue pulling from his mouth in a pant around the air that he’s been allowed to for. There’s a moment of peace where he can breathe, so sweet it makes him whine, wheezing it out between lips so dry they stick with the sound.

Genji’s voice is steady and comforting, even in the midst of it all -- “What's your word?”

Jesse laughs, rough, and Genji slides his calf down between McCree’s legs, drags the slim, slip of metal of his foot against the bulge in Jesse’s jeans. “I need to hear it.”

Genji’s foot digs down, an ache so sweet McCree whines, whines, slurs out something incoherent -- (‘sugar, you’re always s’damn good for me--’), chokes on the last bit of it when Genji removes the pressure abruptly.

“Tamf, Christ. It’s Tamf.” Jesse’s quick to comply, hard and horny and shamelessly desperate, and this time, it’s Genji who laughs. Leans forward just so he can lift back the tip of Jesse’s hat with one finger.

“That’s right, Jesse. You thirsty ass mother fucker.”


End file.
